


Scarves

by Hisa_Ai



Series: 31 Days of Christmas [15]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of fic, Christmas, Christmas prompts, Cold, Cold Weather, Day 15, M/M, Prompt Fic, Scarves, Snow, Theft, Yule, winter weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 20:01:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hisa_Ai/pseuds/Hisa_Ai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur decides Merlin's scarves look to be doing a good job of keeping his manservant warm during the cold winter months, so he does what any rational person would do and steals one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scarves

* * *

  

The worst part about winter, as far as Arthur was concerned, was when it got so cold outside that he had no choice but to layer up. He didn't mind the chainmail and his armor and cape, that was obviously a given, but the further into winter they got, the nippier the air was, the  _more_ he was expected to wear. Like a thicker cloak, more shirts and occasionally trousers, thick winter gloves—it was all very hindering and restrictive of his movements and he didn't like it. Not one bit.

But the truth of the matter was, it  _was_  growing quite cold, and if he didn't find some way to keep himself warm, he would probably get sick. And as much as the extra layers restricted his movements, being sick in bed would restrict him even more. So there had never really been much of a way around it before.

This year, though, he was determined to find some sort of alternative to all those layers. He was  _going_  to find a way to stay warm without wearing quite so many layers if it was the last thing he did. He was sure of it.

It took him a lot of observing, a lot of talking to too many people about fabrics and other girly things, but finally the answer to came to him, just by observing his very own manservant.

The thing about Merlin was that he was scrawny, sure, and he never wore as many layers as Arthur or any of the other knights did, but he never seemed much bothered by the cold. Maybe he just didn't let it show—coming from Ealdor, he was probably used to being cold during the long winter months—or maybe it was something else. Maybe something like his jacket, or his scarves, perhaps. They didn't exactly look too warm, but what else could it be?

Deciding he needed to find out for himself, Arthur took it upon himself to sneak into Merlin's room in Gaius' chambers one day when he had sent him off to the market to run some fool's errand. Knowing he needed to be quick about it to limit the chance of being seen sneaking back out, Arthur pursed his lips when he came to the middle of his room, hands on his hips as he looked around. The room was in complete disarray, of course, books and papers and clothes all over the floor, bed, the table on the far-side of the room…

Ah, just there, on the bed, was Merlin's blue scarf. It looked more winter appropriate than the others he owned—the light green one that was thrown on the floor and the red one Merlin was wearing that day. He quickly yanked it up and stuffed it away, then made his way out of Merlin's room, out of Gaius' chambers, and back to his own, ducking the guards that patrolled the halls and his laughing knights as they walked the halls looking for him.

Once back in his own room, he took the pilfered scarf out and looked it over, but had to shove it just under his mattress a moment later when his door swung open and Merlin entered, cheeks rosy and nose red-tipped from the cold outside. He started chattering about finally finishing Arthur's errands and how it was bloody cold outside—did he know that? Because from the way he was always having him go out and do the stupidest of things, one would assume the prince had no sense of the weather outside at all…

And on and on he went, Arthur rolling his eyes and replying in an appropriate manner for a while while Merlin darted about the room, finishing the odd chore before it was finally time to join his father for dinner. Swept up in the proceedings of the rest of the night, and then falling asleep just as soon as his head hit the pillow, Arthur did not get the chance to pull Merlin's scarf back out until the next morning after Merlin fed him and had him dressed.

Merlin had seemed rather irritated and  _off_  as he had gone about his morning chores, snapping at Arthur outside of their friendly banter at the smallest of innocent comments, until finally Arthur had enough of it. He was the prince, after all; Merlin would not talk to him like that. At least, not without telling him  _why_.

"So what's got you so upset today?" he asked finally, shooting him an almost annoyed look.

"Nothing."

"Come on,  _Mer_ lin, we both know you're lying." Arthur goaded.

"It's nothing, really, just…" he sighed, dropped his hands from his hips and shook his head, looking off out the nearby window.

"Just what? Come on, Merlin, don't make me put you in a headlock," Arthur threatened playfully, smiling when he saw Merlin's lips tug upwards at the familiar threat.

"I just…" he sighed again. "You're going to call me a girl, but… you know these," he brought his hand up to tug at the light-green scarf around his neck. "My neckerchiefs?" he asked, and Arthur nodded, trying not to look in the direction of his bed.

Ah, he had figured Merlin would notice it missing, but he hadn't quite figured out the best way to tell him… Hell, he hadn't figured out  _any_  way to tell him that he had stolen one of his scarves. He had supposed he had been hoping Merlin would just see him wearing it and connect the dots, but now… Damn,  _now_  what was he going to tell him? It was rather silly, when he thought about it. Here he was, the prince of Camelot, and he had stolen his manservant's neck-wear...

People were  _really_  going to wonder what was wrong with him.

"Well, I can't seem to find my blue one. And it's weird, I thought I'd left it on my bed just yesterday morning, but I went back there last night and it just… wasn't there. I tore my room apart looking for it, but I still couldn't find it." He shrugged, lips pursed and eyes squinted with the memory. Arthur tried not to scoff, tried not to let out a reply about his room already being torn apart and what other damage could he have done to it, really? Honestly, cleaning it might have been the way to go instead of thrashing it more, but he still wouldn't have found it, anyway.

"It's almost like someone took it," Merlin said absent-mindedly. "But… why would someone go into the court physician's chambers and just steal some servant's necker?" he asked rhetorically.

Arthur pulled a face, trying to feign disbelief to match Merlin's own. Damn, he'd screwed up. He had  _obviously_  screwed up. Maybe he should just put it back? He couldn't, though, could he? Because then Merlin would just go off and try to figure out how it'd gotten there and who in their right mind would return something as insignificant as that after they'd gone to the trouble of stealing it in the first place...

He could always just lose it in the halls and hope it found its way back to Merlin through the other servants or one of the knights or guards he'd come to befriend over the years…

"It's just a scarf, though," Arthur shook his head at last, trying to paint his face into one of disbelief and impatience. "Surely you can just get a new one? Guinevere, even, could probably make you one." He suggested. "And she'd probably only require you to get the fabric for it, which you can just nick from around here; no one would miss it, trust me," he said, his tone secretive and almost playful.

Merlin just shook his head at what Arthur thought was actually a pretty great idea, lips pursed. "It's not the scarf itself," he sighed. "I… Erm… My mother, you see," he twisted his fingers around the one just around his neck, his movements and body language suggesting to Arthur that whatever he said next would just make Arthur feel guilty for taking the damned thing in the first place.

"Back when I was in Ealdor, Will and I… Got in a bit of trouble once—well, all the time, really, but this time… It was really bad, and some of the men in the village didn't… well, they didn't quite like me or Will much beforehand," he shrugged. Arthur's eyebrows worked themselves together, a crease of wonder and worry creating itself on his forehead. "So, after this one time, after a stupid prank gone wrong, they took it upon themselves to… bring justice upon us." He moved his had in an exaggerated manner, trying to convey the meaning without using the actual words.

And it worked.

When someone sought to bring justice upon those they felt had wronged them themselves instead of seeking out a fair and proper trial, it generally meant severe beatings, if not a brutal, painful death.

And someone had done that to Merlin— _his_  Merlin. He had half a mind to journey out to Ealdor and bring justice upon those so-called  _men_  himself, but Merlin's voice brought him back from his anger before much of a plan could begin to form itself.

"They nearly killed us—not quite, obviously, but nearly. I think the only thing that kept them from finishing the job was that they knew our mothers and liked them well enough. Anyway," he swallowed, his tone suggesting it was a hard memory to relive, even just to relay it for Arthur. "While we were recovering—I was stuck in bed for nearly a week, they got me so bad—my mother was worried about the bruising around my neck from where one of the men had tried to strangle me, and Will. She didn't want me walking around for everyone to see what they'd done to me, to us. So her and Will's mother got this fabric together and they made us these scarves—three for each of us and in the same colors, so we could match, like we always liked to do when we were younger," he shook his head, clicking his tongue at the memories.

"After we were completely healed, Will burned one of his, gave the other two away, but I'd grown used to wearing them, so I just… never quite took them off for too long at a time," he shrugged, eyes coming back to catch Arthur's.

Damn, he  _really_  shouldn't have listened to his explanation. Now he felt extremely guilty about nicking the damn thing. He hadn't really thought there was a story behind it, just thought it was some random article of clothing Merlin had become too attached to.

He let out an annoyed sort of sigh and walked over to his bed, ignoring Merlin's wondering gaze and the question not quite off his lips as he reached under his mattress and yanked out the damned piece of fabric that was far too scratchy for him to wear anyway. In silence, he walked it over to Merlin and answered the unasked question of why he had it stuffed between his mattress before Merlin jumped to odd and, quite frankly,  _embarrassing_ , conclusions.

Merlin's face twisted into a smile, his laugh ripping through the room when Arthur finished retelling his story and how and  _why_  he had come to have the scarf in his possession.

"I didn't laugh at  _your_  story," Arthur grumbled, holding the scarf between them in still more annoyance and indignation.

"That's because my story wasn't  _funny._ But the prince of Camelot sneaking into his servant's chambers to steal a magic scarf? Now  _that's_  funny," he snorted.

"I did not say I thought it was magical!"

"No, just that you thought it kept me warmer than any of your things keep you." Merlin rolled his eyes.

Arthur let out a huff, suddenly not feeling so bad about taking the damn thing anymore. He turned away from Merlin, just about ready to send him off to do something demeaning to make up for laughing at him—though he had probably deserved it, he was willing to admit. he just didn't like that Merlin thought that.

"Wait," Merlin choked out, his laughter subsiding enough for him to catch Arthur's elbow and spin him around. "Since you went to so much trouble," he said, taking the scarf out of Arthur's grip. "At least… try it on yourself, see if it's really as warm as you thought it was," he nodded to himself, quickly working his hands and the scarf around Arthur's neck in the same way he wore it before Arthur could object.

Merlin's fingers danced lightly over his skin before leaving it again; he took a step back and admired his handiwork, a proud sort of grin spreading over his face as he took in the sight.

Arthur cleared his throat, sent Merlin to fetch his hand-mirror and brought a hand up to finger the fabric. It wasn't quite as itchy around his neck as he thought it would be. And maybe it was thinner than he thought it would be—the red one was probably the best one, the thickest one, he figured—but it was still…  _Warm_. Maybe it was because it was  _Merlin's,_ and it was important to him but he was still letting Arthur wear it, but Arthur was sure that it really  _was_  warmer than anything he owned.

Merlin passed him his mirror and perhaps he didn't quite pull it off in the same way that Merlin did, but he thought he looked quite nice in it, regardless.

"What do you think?" he asked Merlin teasingly.

"Mmm, nice, matches your eyes and everything," Merlin teased back, taking the mirror and throwing it onto his bed without second thought.

Arthur laughed, Merlin smiled wide, and, somehow, when Arthur moved to take it off and return it to him, Merlin convinced him to hold on to it for him, maybe for the rest of the winter. Arthur was touched, of course, and wore the damn thing nearly every day, ignoring the looks from his father, the giggles from Morgana, the teasing from his knights, the whispers in the halls.

He had been right all along: Merlin's scarves did a  _fine_  job of keeping a person plenty warm during the long winter months. It just turned out it wasn't entirely the scarves themselves that did it.

 

* * *

 


End file.
